The Rose
by Kyia Star
Summary: A songfic for Aoshi and about him set to Amanda McBroom's The Rose. AoshixMisao.


The Rose 

_I don't own Rurouni Kenshin. The words and music of the song "The Rose" are by Amanda McBroom; and is copyright 1977 Warner-Tamerlane Publishing Corp. and Third Story Music INC.  _Lyrics should be in Italics, but in the event that they are not, the lyrics are not indented. Hopefully, if they're not italicized then that clears up confusion. Thanks to both Kracken l.w. and KittyLizard for proofing this fic for me. Thanks guys!

          Aoshi sat in the temple again, legs crossed and hands in a meditative position, his eyes closed to the world. The walls of the shrine were bare, the stark paneling was a natural color enhanced by the sun. But despite the austere, even Spartan décor, this place was peaceful and after everything of late, peace was what he needed. The calm building however did little to bring peace to his mind. He pondered, as he did every day; he did not ponder death that had taken team; his thoughts were mirages: they came and disappeared revolving around the thought that had awakened him from sleep: Misao and her love for him. In terms of looks, Aoshi knew without looking into a mirror that he was striking. His blue-black hair hung just above his icy blue eyes; their color complimented his pale skin, which was stretched over an aristocratic bone structure, showing finely chiseled features. 

          Because of his looks, he could understand why Misao had developed an infatuation, but damned if he could understand why she loved him! He was dubbed a complete icicle by many, and in most cases, this was true. His voice almost never changed in pitch or tone; his expression was always the same: blank. He just did not understand. But even worse than that, his heart responded to Misao. She didn't know it, but it did—and that scared him, right into his soul.

Some say love it is a river that drowns the tender reed. Some say love it is a razor that leaves your soul to bleed. 

          Gods help him; he'd know her since she was a child! And yet, somewhere, somehow, he didn't know when, it had all begun to change. She'd been a child one minute, the next; she was a teenager with her own mind. He didn't know when his love for her began to grow, but he needed her badly. However, he couldn't tell her; she was too young, to innocent in his eyes and he didn't want to shatter that, but oh, how he hungered for her!

Some say love it is a hunger an endless aching need.   

          Misao looked in the window of the temple where he sat peacefully meditating. She spied the empty bowl; at least he'd taken the time to eat. A frown marred her delicate features; day after day, Aoshi's hiatus from living consumed the daylight hours. Her heart ached for him. Her heart; it was the one thing she wished he'd accept from her, but thus far, he'd paid her no mind. It saddened her immensely to know that he still tried to get over the past, but what he was doing just could not be healthy! 

          She glanced at the new flowers that grew around the Aoiya. They were so pretty; they reminded her of the first time she'd realized how much she loved Aoshi. Her eyes continued to keep their vigil. 

I say love, it is a flower and you its only seed. 

          It was cowardly of him to keep his feelings inside and continue to hurt her. but he was afraid of her remembering and rejecting his heart and him. He did not know on a first hand basis what a broken heart felt like, but the look on Misao's face as he told her those hateful words that night when he had fought and injured Okina gave him a second hand experience of watching a heart shatter like glass striking a hard surface; her heart.

It's the heart afraid of breaking that never learns to dance. 

          In his dreams he was able to confess his feelings to Misao, but only then. And those dreams were wonderful, dreams he never wanted to wake from. Dreams, however, were not reality and he knew it. And while he could easily tell her in dreams how deep his feelings ran, the probability of him saying it to her face was rather slim. His own feelings for her frightened him with their intensity, and if they frightened him, then would they not also frighten her as well? He had resigned himself to the logic that while they were surrealistic, dreams were the only place where his feelings would not overwhelm her.

It's the dream afraid of waking that never takes the chance. 

          He was ignoring her again. No matter how hard she stared at him, or how long, he continued to ignore her, and focus on his food. Dammit all! He was so stubborn! It made Misao want to scream, pound on something, and pull her hair out! If he didn't have any feelings for her, then the least he could do is tell her! Nicely though, she hoped. His cruel words of never wanting to see her again still sounded in her mind from time to time, and sometimes her nightmares. He was so selfish! That also didn't help.

          **_'Selfish, idiotic man!'_** she thought fiercely. Aoshi Shinomori, so calm and controlled, he would not let himself feel anything! Was he just scared? Did feelings scare him so much? If she compared him to Kenshin, she'd see opposite ends of the spectrum. Kenshin did not run from his feelings or refuse to accept them; instead, he reveled in them and lived with them as a part of whom he was. Aoshi, on the other hand, could not accept feelings, or reciprocate, as if it would hurt him to do so. He needed to learn to live, that was why he was alive.

It's the one who won't be taken who cannot seem to give, and the soul afraid of dyin' that never learns to live.  

          The Aoiya was busy, very busy in fact, and Aoshi could see Misao helping the others to cook and serve. If it became any busier, he knew they'd beg for his help. Half an hour later however, the restaurant calmed enough that Misao was no longer needed. She opened the shoji and stepped out into the cool night air taking no notice of him while she flopped onto the porch to rest. Finally, she noticed and gave him a weary greeting. But it was a careful greeting; she was treading lightly, unsure of what he would do or say. Her greeting him however was a good thing. Nights like these should be shared with a loved one, not alone.

When the night has been too lonely… 

          "Good evening, Misao. Has it quieted down a bit?"

          "For now," she responded tiredly.

          It had been a long trek for him to be able to talk to her; she had no problem talking to him, never had. It had taken a long while for him to be able to merely live, if he could call his reclusiveness living- it was more of a life than the madness of the obsessive need to be the best and the strongest that had nearly consumed him. The next road was this feeling of love for the young lady that sat near his standing form. He could feel her ki, and he felt her happiness, love, and wariness, and it made him frown. Long ago, his logic concerning love was that the emotion was a faerie tale that only graced the lives of heroes who had dumb luck, or were strong enough to perform impossible feats. But now he wondered…

…and the road has been too long, and you think that love is only for the lucky and the strong, 

          It was time she took a blind leap of faith. She decided that even if Aoshi didn't feel the same way that she wanted to let him know how she felt and how she still felt. Her first step was to drop the honorific she'd always linked with his name. At the very least, such a thing would capture his attention.

          "Aoshi."

          Aoshi looked at her, startled that she had removed the honorific title from his name. She was turned away from him so that her face was drenched in the night's inky black shadows and unreadable.

          "Yes, Misao?" Fear clutched at his heart. Was she going to tell him how much she hated him? 

          "I just want you to know how I feel Aoshi." 

          Still he could not see her face. Her ki spiked nervously. Resignation spread through him; he deserved her hatred more than her love for all the hurt that he had put her through; he wasn't going to deny it. The wind blew through the flower-laden bushes and the smell of roses wafted into his nose; he breathed it in and steeled himself. 

          "I'm listening," he said, sitting down gently at her side.

          "I want you to know, that I love you, very much. I want you to know that I always have. Even if you hate me, even if you loathe me and think o me as nothing more than a silly child, I just want you to know how I feel. I will be here if you need me."

          That said, she stood and turned to go back inside, but his long elegant fingers curled over her hand and pulled her back down. With his other hand, he gently forced her head up to meet his eyes. There were emotions in those ice blue depths; surprise was prominent, but also further back shone gratefulness, and hope. And, oh, love; it took the place of the surprise. His hand let go of hers and wrapped around her waist and brought her forward; his other hand cupped the back of head and supported her neck. His mouth descended on hers, powerful and demanding. 

          It happened so fast that for a moment, Misao couldn't move. As the paralysis of surprise wore off, she smiled slyly and kissed him back, parting her lips, allowing his tongue to dance with hers as he hauled her closer to his body while pinning her between the hard wood column and himself as he angled her neck a bit more for better access. 

          She knew now that he did love her. He didn't need to say it, not now at least. Someday soon he would need to muster up the courage to tell her, but it didn't need to be tonight; tonight was perfect. But he surprised her. Breaking their kiss, his lips hovered over hers as he replied,

          "And I you. I was afraid you hated me after everything I've done."

          She pulled him back into the kiss murmuring, "Idiot. As if I could hate you!"

…just remember in the winter far beneath the bitter snows lies the seed that with the sun's love in the spring becomes the rose. 

          Inside the Aoiya, the others watched the oblivious couple with gentle smiles; all of them sharing the thoughts that it was about time those two admitted their feelings for each other.

-End-

Please R&R. Constructive criticism is welcome. Flames are not and will be removed from both fanfiction.net and from my e-mail. 

Kyia Star


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